Ditch the to-do list—at least for a little while

My greenhouse needs attention. It has suffered the slings and arrows of nature in the last couple of seasons—a powerful storm ripped the back door off, the front door is rotting on the hinge side, and the greenbrier vines have clearly been plotting a takeover. I had a few line items related to rebuilding the back door on my to-do list this week, but I've been feeling rather overscheduled of late, and yesterday morning, I was conflicted about getting started.

We've established a few Christmas traditions over the years—dinner on Christmas Eve is strictly an Austrian menu and the main meal on Christmas Day features prime rib and Yorkshire pudding—but my favorite tradition is watching A Christmas Carol after we've had breakfast and opened our gifts (and only the George C. Scott version will do). We've done it for more than 25 consecutive years now, and I always start tearing up when Ebenezer Scrooge accepts his nephew's invitation to Christmas dinner. By the time he's telling Bob Cratchit that he's getting a raise, I can hardly see the screen. Scrooge lightens so many spirits—including his own—by heeding the messages the three spirits deliver to him.

A great source of light during the shorter days

Yesterday, as I wrestled with the demands of my to-do list and my desire to lie down for a nap instead, I realized I had already received three messages in the last few days—both literally and figuratively—prodding me to choose rest over activity.

First, I received an email inviting me to a winter solstice gathering. I've always loved observing the solstice, but a dinner party had already claimed the evening. Although the dinner and conversation were wonderful, I missed the special time of quiet reflection I usually take each year to bask in the glow of a yule log fire.

Then I received a text from a family member letting me know that he'd been at urgent care getting treatment for pneumonia. I immediately started worrying about his well-being. Then I pondered the possibility that the illness was a result of him not taking time to rest.

The third message was from a friend who announced that she had written, "Go on a hike with Becky" on her to-do list. I was flattered that she wanted to prioritize time with me during her holiday break. I was grateful too—spending time with her is always restorative for me. Her name rests squarely in my "safe people" column for countless reasons, but the most important is that I can be wholly myself without judgment when I'm with her.

Regular hikes are a necessity

As I looked at her message, though, I thought about my to-do list—the never-ending mental or handwritten accounting of tasks I think I need to attend to. As soon as I check items off the list, new ones show up to claim the vacated real estate. I don't recall ever adding a delightful task to my list—like "Spend the afternoon at the High Museum of Art" or "Relax on the sofa in the reading garden and lose myself in a book." And if I'm honest, if I did include such items, they'd probably keep slipping below other things that seemed more pressing (but probably weren't), if only because I've long bought into the idea that doing (and by extension accomplishing) somehow increases my value more than being does.

Let me be clear about one thing, though: A person's value is predetermined, unshakable, and infinitely higher than we're likely willing to believe. No amount of doing or not doing moves the needle on that. Doing can help move us forward, for sure, but doing too much without filling our tanks regularly will negatively impact us and everyone around us.

Luckily, my moment of catharsis came from a dear friend's simple message rather than a visitation from a dark specter apparently in need of some WD-40.

What if I gave up trying to manage a to-do list for a few days and focused on a to-be list instead? How would it work, and what would a to-be list example look like?

Here are a few to-be list ideas I've come up with:

• Sit and admire the Christmas tree.

• Enjoy a cup (or pot) of tea.

• Listen to music.

• Cuddle with the dogs.

• Read.

• Take a nap.

• Relax by the fire.

• Knit.

• Wander the property with the camera.

• Play Yahtzee! (And give a high-five to anyone who rolls a Yahtzee.)

• Paint.

• Go for a hike with a beloved friend.

A much-loved tea set from a friend

I found it rather reassuring that I could generate a long list of to-be list ideas just as quickly as my to-do list fills up. Obviously, everyone's menu will be unique, and it will likely evolve over time, but I want to encourage everyone to give it a go. And let me leave you with a few important things to remember:

1. Guard your to-be time. Everyone has a right to relax. It's okay to claim time for yourself—even if your schedule is full of activities or your house is full of guests. In fact, you can set a healthy example by announcing that you're going to step away for an hour or so for some quiet time. Your guests may just take your cue and do the same.

2. Don't tackle your to-be list like you would a to-do list. If we think of a to-do list as a set of orders, we need to think of the to-be list as a menu. That means there's no need to do everything on it. It's just a delicious offering of restorative activities to choose from.

3. Try not to worry about the to-do list. It will always be lurking around the corner, so you can return to it easily, but if you let it dictate every part of every day, you'll never get the rest you need.

I'll get to the greenhouse. In the meantime, I'm going to peruse my menu and choose something relaxing instead. It seems a better way to ring in a new year. I hope you find something on your menu you just can't resist.

Cultivating your inner artist

Is there a skill you've always wished you had but somehow convinced yourself—perhaps helped along by other people's comments—you simply aren't that kind of person?

Oh, I'd love to play the cello, but I'm not good at reading music.

I wish I were great at math, but I'm not good with numbers.

Do those sound familiar? Similar thoughts have rolled around in my head. I can't recall how I arrived at the conclusion that I'm not artistic. I'm undoubtedly creative, but thinking of myself as a potential artist has always seemed a ridiculous stretch. I don't know how many times I've said, "I'd love to draw, but I just don't have the skills," and that has pretty much been the end of it.

If you've ever found yourself in similar circumstances, I'd like to encourage you to question those limiting beliefs. Finding a creative hobby and taking time to make your soul happy is incredibly beneficial for your mental well-being as well as your memory—and there's loads of evidence to back that up. Plus, combatting the inner critic is really empowering, and it's a great way to counteract any tendency toward perfectionism.

Historically, I've struggled to sketch anything that closely resembles the original. Rather than pushing through the discomfort of my limited drawing skills and practicing regularly to improve them, I've quickly retreated to the relative safety of my limiting belief—I can't draw.

Two years ago, though, I developed a curiosity for watercolor painting, thanks to an ad I had seen for an online watercolor course for beginners. It was inexpensive, so I decided to give it a try. It was somewhat helpful, but I think I needed more detailed instruction. No matter how much I practiced, I couldn't get the results I was looking for. Disappointed, I tucked the brushes and paint away, occasionally pulling them out to paint with a friend who's far more skilled than I am.

A pink Alstroemeria

But the desire to get it right lingered, so when I saw an ad two months ago for another watercolor course from Create Academy*—this time focusing on botanical illustration—I pondered giving it a go. Here's the wrinkle, though: Botanical illustration is incredibly exacting. There's no room for impressionism. The purpose is to accurately depict the subject, right down to its actual size and finest details. It was clearly a counterintuitive approach for someone who doubted her artistic abilities. I spent a couple of weeks alternating between watching the introductory video on the website and listing all the reasons it was a bad idea to pay the membership fee for Create Academy. (To be clear, I was interested in taking several courses Create Academy has on offer, so the annual subscription price seemed perfectly reasonable.)

Reader, I took the leap.

I honestly wasn't convinced I would fare any better with this course, but hope springs eternal. And this time, hope may have won out. I think this attempt has been more successful for a few reasons. First, the instruction seems more methodical and detailed, which is something I need. I'm a Questioner by nature, so I need to gather a lot of information before I feel especially comfortable moving forward.

The game-changing divider

Second, it requires the use of a divider, a tool that resembles a compass but has two pointed ends rather than one with a point and the other with a pencil. You use the divider to measure every aspect of your specimen and transfer light marks on the watercolor paper to ensure everything is appropriately scaled. That has nearly eliminated the difficulties I've always had with drawing a reasonable replica. It's the drawing aid I never knew I needed.

Third, the subject matter is far more interesting to me than simply learning how to paint with watercolor. I'm obviously obsessed with flowers. The bulk of my photography focuses on the details of a single flower, so botanical illustration seems a natural fit. And the garden, in season, will provide me with infinite sources of inspiration. Finally, I've been trying to slow down a bit and learn to savor the details of an activity rather than focus on the end results.

But I'll say this: The results of pursuing this new creative hobby have been nothing short of amazing to me. Am I suddenly a gifted artist? Not hardly. But the artwork I'm producing bears a strong resemblance to the real specimens, and my skills are increasing incrementally with each new attempt. The practice is very contemplative, and it forces me to focus intently and accept that a painting of a single specimen will take at least two weeks to complete. It's a compelling, enjoyable, and satisfying form of creative expression for me.

I have no illusions that I'll be an exceptional botanical illustrator in a year, but I do know that improvement compounds with regular practice. Reading Atomic Habits and reestablishing a consistent piano practice schedule taught me that valuable lesson. My sight reading skills have increased exponentially in the last year, and learning to play a new piece proficiently—once an arduous task—is far easier and more enjoyable.

I've also learned that sometimes, when you're looking for a creative hobby that feeds your spirit, you may not know where to start. But it's worth trying whatever piques your curiosity. And sometimes, you really are on the track of the perfect hobby, even if it doesn't seem like you are. You might choose something that initially doesn't seem exactly right, but sometimes it just takes a few minor adjustments.

So, if you've thought about finding a creative hobby, don't let any limiting beliefs you've held hold you back—whether others have instilled that in you or you've convinced yourself you just don't have the natural skill. Take time to create something meaningful to you. If you only see a one percent improvement each time you work on your creative outlet, keep telling yourself that within a year, you'll likely be 100 percent better.

Now, what limiting beliefs have you been holding on to, and how will you cultivate your inner artist in 2025? I'd love to hear about it! Let's make it a year of saying yes to our inner artists and giving them everything they need to thrive.

*Note: The links I've included are for informational purposes. I receive no compensation for including them or for you clicking on them.

Winter prep for garden success in the coming year

Things are a little quieter around here — as long as I tune out the wind that's howling outside as I write. Nearly every plant that isn't evergreen has died back for the winter, so it may seem like the perfect time to hunker down in the house, sit down with a cup of hot tea and the latest seed catalog, and wait for the warmer weather to return. In fact, it's the best time to do some winter prep for garden health and productivity in the coming year.

The vegetable garden in its early, weed-free days

In 1789, Benjamin Franklin wrote in a letter to Jean-Baptiste Le Roy, "in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes." I'd like to recommend one more addition to those certainties: weeds. Most of the work I've been doing lately and will continue doing in the coming weeks will help with managing weeds in the garden moving forward — and we really need the help. We've had a major problem for the last couple of years, thanks to one weed in particular: Phyllanthus urinaria, which is itself an unpleasant name, but I find one of its common names, gripeweed, especially apt. This weed has colonized nearly every bit of cultivated soil on our property and brought me to my knees by the end of each season, but I'm determined to eradicate it with organic approaches.

The pathways this year were riddled with weeds

If you've ever wondered what to do about weeds, I've been testing out some methods. The first line of defense is simply to pull as many weeds as possible as they're coming up, and it's really important to get to them before they set seeds. But sometimes the problem is simply too extensive. In the case of gripeweed, the undersides of the leaves are covered in seed pods that explode — the perfect vehicle for spraying seeds far and wide and ensuring quick and thick coverage.

Trying to keep up with the gripeweed in the pool garden last year was utterly demoralizing. It seemed as if every time I cleared a square-foot section, the ground was covered again within days. While mulching heavily often works well to stifle weeds, that's not always the case, and

Flowers in the second tier of the pool garden flourishing (and the weeds in the first tier doing the same)

gripeweed seems impervious to mulch. So early this spring, I decided to double down — literally. We covered the entire second tier of the garden with cardboard we had saved over the winter. Then we added a three-inch layer of compost on top. That proved to be a powerful combination. It cut our weeding efforts this summer almost down to nothing. We've decided to repeat that process each spring for the next few years, and we'll extend the same coverage to the lower tier this winter. Ultimately, we've found the best way to prevent weeds is to take a multi-pronged approach.

The vegetable garden is another beast altogether. We spent 30 minutes every day for the last few weeks pulling all of the weeds from the paths. That, unfortunately, is step one of our new process. The next step will be to shovel up the gravel in sections and sift it to remove the dirt and weed seeds that have accumulated over the years. We'll also have to sweep the weed barrier clean of debris before we rake the gravel back in place. That will take at least two months, but we're hopeful we'll turn the tide in the weed war.

We've also pulled the weeds in the raised beds we haven't renovated yet, which is just under half of them. Then we added cardboard and a thick pile of mowed leaves on top. I tried laying

A renovated bed with garlic and four inches of mowed leaves on top

black plastic on one of the beds in August to solarize the soil and kill the weeds. It's an approach that worked in our Orlando garden, but here, it just attracted every fire ant in the county, so I've crossed it off the list of options. I've also used my flame weeder, but it requires a lot of time, and I'm forever worried I'll burn everything down. The cardboard and compost/leaf approach, combined with regular weeding seems to be the method we'll be going with in most of the gardens next year.

It will be interesting to see how much progress we can make—and just how magnificent the gardens will be as a result. It's something I'm really looking forward to.

So, what winter prep are you doing to get your garden ready? I'd love to hear about it!